Double Jeopardy
by Punky Misfit
Summary: Booth sustains an injury that ends up being much more than he bargained for.
1. Agent Down

"All right guys, I want everyone to be careful in there. Stay together. Alejandro and his men are armed and dangerous."

"You sure they're not sleeping? It's like four in the morning, sir."

"Trust me, they're anticipating an attack at any moment. They're prepared for us. Now we need to be prepared for them. No causalities. No one tries to be a hero, all right? And I want to emphasize to stay together! We'll be more powerful as one unit then a bunch of agents alone. Do you all understand me?"

A general chorus of "yes, sir!" cried out into the air. Agent Seeley Booth pushed his desk chair away from the general conference table he and a group of ten other agents had been meeting at. He picked his way through the crowd to SAC Wilhelm. He couldn't help but to notice the young agent looked nervous. "You ready for this?"

"No," he sighed, raking a hand through his short blond hair. "I just want us all to get in and out in one piece. I feel like I haven't prepared everyone enough."

"You've done fine," Booth argued encouragingly. "We're ready."

He spoke with confidence. Though it was early in the morning he was alert and ready to go. This wasn't a typical case for him. Ordinarily Booth worked crimes for his own unit with his partner, Dr. Temperance Brennan. However, just as he'd finished up his last case he'd been contacted by Agent Wilhelm, requesting to bring him into his own task force he'd been appointed.

The two didn't formally know one another. Wilhelm only knew of Booth by reputation. But this being one of the agent's first major cases, he'd asked for Booth whom had plenty of experience. Booth had been flattered. He'd accepted the request and gone to work with the team of agents Wilhelm had assembled.

The FBI had intelligence that Pedro Alejandro, a man who was responsible for a massive amount of drug trade in Washington D.C. and the surrounding areas, had put a type of poison in the heroin he traded as a way to get back at his enemies. The tainted heroin was only being sold to certain people. But it'd already done its damage. So far over one hundred people had died. Addicts were frightened of the situation. Alejandro had worked it in a way that no one knew where the drugs were coming from. They still weren't afraid enough to be deterred. It was time for the government to step in.

Because of the severity Booth knew Wilhelm was nervous. To Booth it seemed like a piece of cake. He'd been on countless missions such as this one. Get in, get the target, by force or deadly means if necessary, and get out. Nothing to it. Though he could understand Wilhelm's concern.

The agents all piled into different government issued vehicles. They drove to the scene, moving as quietly as possible. Once there they hopped out and began preparations. Bullet proof vests were lifted from trunks and strapped around bodies. Unfortunately, their count fell short. Everyone had one except Wilhelm.

Booth was the first to unstrap his and hand it over.

"No," Wilhelm shook his head. "You need this."

"You need it more," Booth insisted.

"Then don't go in. Stay outside and call for backup if needed."

"Look, I've done this a million times. I'll be fine."

There wouldn't be any stopping him and they both knew it. Wilhelm gave in.

The agents assembled, then stormed the office building. Just as Wilhelm had predicted Alejandro's men had been anticipating their arrival. They were barely inside before gun fire was exchanged. Booth, who had been at the back of the pack, ducked low. Disregarding orders he took himself down a hallway away from the assault. As he walked he kept his gun thrust in front of him with his arms locked. He was ready for anything.

The hallways were like a dizzying maze. Each turn took him further and further away from the gun fight until he was past the point of no return. He wasn't sure what he was looking for. By the sounds of it all the action was happening back up front. But confrontations were funny like that. One never knew what he might find. And it Booth's case, when the halls ended and there was no where to go, he found himself face to face with Alejandro himself.

The man was sitting cross legged on the floor. His back leaned up against a counter with a set of cabinets. In front of him was a mirror, with white powder and a razor blade. He looked up at Booth with a look in his eyes that raised the hair on Booth's neck.

"FBI," Booth spoke in his no non sense voice. "Freeze."

"Or what?" He grinned back at him.

Booth almost couldn't believe this man before him was the one they'd been after. His teeth were brown, with several missing. His body was bone thin. The scrawny arms attached at his sides didn't seem capable of inflicting any sort of damage against anyone. No wonder he got his revenge through bad coke.

"Get up," he ordered, disregarding his question. "Slowly."

Alejandro looked back behind Booth. "No. I don't think so." Again, he smiled.

Something bad was about to happen. Booth could feel it in the air. The tide of power was changing. "I'll shoot you," he warned him.

"No. No, you won't." Alejandro laughed.

Suddenly a loud, fierce explosion went off behind Booth. It blew out the walls. The force of it propelled him forward into the counter. The smoke smothered his mouth and nose. He could feel the hot flames from the fire lapping at his skin. Upon impact his head collided with one of the knobs on the cabinets. Down to the floor he slumped, completely dazed. His gun slipped from his hand.

Alejandro had prepared for the blast. Soon as the bomb had gone off he'd taken himself into a small alcove that led to a door to the outside. Right then and there he could have escaped. But before going he decided to take care of one of the agents who had come to destroy his business. To try and take his life. He'd send a message back to the entire bureau.

Booth had ended up laying crumpled on his side. Trying to keep his eyes open was difficult. His mind badly wanted to pull him down into the sweet darkness. Booth knew he shouldn't let go. But he couldn't remember why. It was hard to recall much of anything, or to truly sense the danger he was in.

Alejandro pushed Booth onto his back. From his belt he removed his own hand gun. Fearlessly he pressed the barrel down against the skin on Booth's chest. Specifically, straight down on Booth's heart. "_No one, _he growled in a quiet, intense voice. "Messes with Alejandro and lives to tell. _No one._" He pulled the trigger.

Booth squirmed just as the gun went off. And so while he was most definitely struck, the bullet just barely missed his heart by centimeters. His body still involuntarily jerked from the bullet piercing completely through his skin, lodging itself somewhere in his body.

Alejandro next pressed the weapon against his forehead. Two bullets were better than one, he reasoned. Booth was still breathing. And even though Alejandro was confident he wouldn't be before long, it was better to be safe than sorry.

In the distance he could hear agents coming, no doubt tipped off by the explosion and gun fire they'd heard. Time was running out. Alejandro pushed the gun harder against Booth's forehead. He squeezed the trigger, only to have nothing happen. The barrel had jammed.

The sound of the agents looking for their fallen colleague grew closer. Alejandro didn't have time to attempt to fix it. He rose, spitting at Booth before turning for the exit. He disappeared outside into the dark early morning.

Wilhelm led the group of agents through the fire that was still raging. One glimpse of Booth and all else was forgotten. Down to his knees he fell besides his fallen friend. "We need paramedics. NOW!" He demanded.

Booth was just barely breathing. Deep down he was being pulled into the after effects of shock. He stared up at the few agents gathered around him with slit eyes. He could taste bitter metallic blood in his mouth. All over he trembled uncontrollably.

"Booth, help's on the way. Don't quit on me, all right?" Wilhelm was scared to death.

There wasn't any sort of response he was able to give. As his eyes closed he thought of his son, Parker. He thought of the mother of his son, with whom it was never meant to be. And just as he drifted off he thought of Brennan. His Bones.


	2. Partners Reunited

"Miss Willard, what else can you tell me about these remains?" Dr. Temperance Brennan paced back and forth. A young student, one of her grad students, was standing upon the lab's platform looking down over a surgical steel table. Grayish white bones laid out across a blue blanket. The color contrast was nearly shocking to the naked eye.

"Um," the student leaned in closer. She furrowed her brow as she studied hard. "The bones are pitted, suggesting osteoporosis. I'd estimate that the victim is in their late sixties to early seventies."

Brennan nodded approvingly. She continued to listen while Miss Willard went on to list all the facts she could pick out from the remains. Everything she said was correct, much to Brennan's chagrin. The truth was Brennan was dying to correct her. Not because she was a strict teacher. But because she wanted to put her energy into other thoughts. All morning she'd done nothing but think about Booth.

All day yesterday she hadn't heard from him. And so far that day she hadn't heard from him either, though it was early in the morning. The silence was unusual for a man who had called her once a day to visit even while working another case. She couldn't help but to feel nervous, no matter how illogical it seemed. Booth was a tough, strong FBI agent. It wasn't like he couldn't take care of himself. She trusted him with her own life more than anyone else, maybe even herself. So her concern was silly.

But why couldn't she let it go?

"Dr. Brennan!" A security guard suddenly bellowed, startling both Brennan and the student. "Phone for you. Caller says its urgent."

Perplexed, Brennan excused herself. She tromped down the stairs away from the platform and into her office. Behind her she closed the door. Sitting down at her desk, she pressed the appropriate line on her phone's switchboard. Then she lifted the receiver. "Dr. Temperance Brennan speaking."

"Dr. Brennan? It's Rebecca."

Brennan narrowed her eyes in confusion. Rebecca was the mother of Booth's son. The two hadn't been romantically involved in quite some time. Why on earth was she calling Brennan? "Rebecca, hi. How can I help you?"

Over the line it sounded like the woman took in a gulping breath. "I need a favor. I got a call from the hospital. Booth's been admitted." Rebecca's speech sped up with her nervous emotion. "The doctors won't tell me what's wrong, but they say I should come immediately. I can't get there. I'm not even in the country right now."

"I'll go," Brennan volunteered without thinking. "Is it the hospital here in D.C.?"

"No. It's Union Memorial in Baltimore."

"I'm on my way." Brennan hung up. She gathered up her coat and purse. Booth was in the hospital. The pit of anxiousness in her stomach turned into a ball. Why was he there? What had happened to him? This had to have been why she he hadn't called her.

Brennan flew out from her office. "I'm sorry, Miss Willard, but I have an emergency." She said no more as she hurried to the exit.

"Brennan?" Her friend, Angela, called after her.

Brennan didn't stop for anyone. She didn't stop moving until she was in her car speeding down the highway. Nothing really sunk in as she drove. Her motor skills went onto autopilot. There wasn't anything necessarily wrong with Booth, she tried to tell herself. It was quite possible that he'd done something as simple as hit his head. That wouldn't be the first time. And he'd need someone to drive him home if he had a concussion. But wouldn't he have told the doctors to call her instead of Rebecca? Hell, wouldn't he have just called her himself?

Her concussion theory seemed unlikely. Brennan hardened herself for the worst. But she hoped for the best.

In no time she was at the hospital. Everything was a blur until she found her way to the hospital's information desk. An elderly volunteer looked away from a computer she was typing on and up at Brennan. "Can I help you?" She wondered kindly.

"I'm looking for Seeley Booth. I need to know what room he's in."

"Okay. Do you know when he was brought in?"

"No," she admitted sadly. "But I know he's here."

The volunteer pursued her lips. Her fingers flew over the keyboard as she conducted a search. When the results came back her expression turned morose. "He's in Intensive Care, dear."

Brennan was just barely able to mutter a thank you. She dizzily took herself through the hospital until she ran into another desk sitting in the entrance to the ICU. A nurse prevented her from going straight on in. "Can I help you?"

"I'm looking for Seeley Booth. I'm his partner."

The nurse's eyes flicked over her. "Doctor Stein? Can you come here?"

A doctor joined the nurse. She pointed at Brennan. "This here is Agent Seeley Booth's partner. She wants to see him."

"Dr. Temperance Brennan," she introduced herself. "You called for Rebecca but she couldn't come, and I came, since I'm his _partner_," she reiterated.

The doctor waved her on back. Brennan eagerly followed.

"He's been stable now for a few hours," Dr. Stein explained as they walked. "Course as I'm sure you know that can change anytime with gun shot victims."

Brennan stopped so fast she nearly toppled over. Her blue eyes widened. "Gun shot?" She repeated, dumb founded.

Dr. Stein looked puzzled. "You didn't know? Has anyone told you anything about his condition?"

She shook her head no.

"I apologize. I thought someone would have briefed you, since you both work for the bureau."

"He was on a different case," she explained breathlessly.

Dr. Stein nodded acknowledgement. "Agent Booth was brought in early this morning. He suffered a gun shot wound at point blank range to his chest."

Brennan gasped. Point blank range? How had Booth let someone get so close to him? Had he been captured?

"He got lucky, though. If the bullet had been a hair over it would have struck him in the heart. Your partner would have been dead instantly. You're a doctor, you say? I could go over his x-rays with you."

"I just want to see him right now."

Dr. Stein continued walking. Every step to Brennan felt surreal. As though she were in a bad dream she couldn't get out of. "Has he been conscious?"

"In and out." Just in front of a curtain he stopped. "He's right in there."

Brennan fearlessly threw the curtain back and let herself in. The room was darkened, with the only light besides those on his monitors coming from a television screen. She hesitantly approached Booth, stopping only a few steps away when her she allowed her eyes to search his body. To say she was shocked was an understatement. It didn't even begin to cover the horror she felt. The tears she'd been focusing on keeping away sprang into her eyes unexpectedly.

Booth was lying on his back in bed with his eyes closed. A respirator mask covered his mouth and nose. Reluctantly he breathed with the rhythm it pumped into his body. Whenever he exhaled Brennan could hear a muffled hissing sound. The bullet had damaged his lungs. On his own it was more than likely that he wouldn't be able to breathe.

An assorted array of other wires led from different machines to different places on Booth's body. Brennan didn't know what a lot of them were for. She tried to look past it. In his broken body she tried to see the man.

Booth's sinewy skin was a grayish color. First and second degree burns decorated his face and arms. His jaw was clenched tightly. From pain, if Brennan had to guess. He looked weaker than she'd ever seen him. And he was still. More tears rose to her eyes. He was so _still._

At long last she forced herself to go the few remaining steps. Sorrowfully she brought his hand into hers, being careful of the IV tapped down to the back of it. "Booth," she whispered to him.

Just one word was all that was needed. The pulse rate on his monitor increased suddenly. Brennan quickly turned to look at it. Because of that she missed Booth opening his eyes. When she looked back, she found him watching her through heavy eye lids. Her stricken face wasn't lost on him even in his semi conscious state. Underneath the mask he tried to smile at her.

"Don't," she snapped back at him in a strained voice. "Don't try to make this better for me. What happened to you?"

Tiredly his eyes closed. He untangled his hand from hers. She observed as he stuck up his thumb, pointed his index finger, and tucked the rest of his fingers into his palm. The classic sign of a gun.

For once she understood the reference. "You were shot."

He nodded.

"In the chest." The tears slipped from her eyes. "Why? Booth, how'd this happen to you?"

Of course, it wasn't like he was in any condition to talk about it. Brennan didn't know what she expected. But she could see Booth was slipping out again. His shut eyes were fluttering. His body was immobilizing itself.

"Booth?"

He opened a blood shot eye to look at her.

Now that she had his attention she didn't know what to say. "I'm not going anywhere," she mumbled lamely.

Booth returned her gaze for a moment before his eyes rolled back and closed. She was left alone holding his hand and listening to the sure sound of his methodic breathing.


	3. Partners Apart

**A few months later**

"Okay. You're doing great. Just a few more."

Brennan walked into the rehabilitation center. She found herself routinely wrinkling her nose at the smell of sweat and disinfectant. Despite the fact that the facility was always very clean she somehow always felt the need to take a shower after she left. By the entrance she hung back, waiting. Among the different pairs of men and women working with trainers Brennan searched for Booth. At last she spotted him at the other end of the building. A perky, young blond haired woman was coaching him while he sat on a bench, pushing two metal bars with weights attached to them feverishly. If Brennan didn't know better she'd swear he was showing off. But even if she were to tease him about it she knew it really wasn't the case. Booth just badly wanted his life back.

It'd been a month since he'd been released from the hospital. His recovery had been slightly stunted by questions his doctors had that remained unanswered. The big mystery had been discovering that there was no bullet in Booth's body, when there should have been. Different images and scans had been done time and time again to turn up nothing. There was, of course, a clean cut entrance wound. But no exit. And no sign of any sort of metal in his body.

"There must be some explanation," Brennan had insisted. "Bullets don't just disappear."

"We've been over and over all of his scans. We've tried numerous different tests. There's no evidence what so ever."

Brennan had studied the images for herself. "What if he was standing? Couldn't the bullet have exited his body in such a way-"

Dr. Stein had cut her off with a shake of his head. "Agent Booth himself said that Alejandro had him trapped down against the floor."

Brennan had had to turn her back on the doctor just then. She'd heard the story from Booth. But the nightmarish images it stirred up every time she thought about it made her shudder. Booth should never have been in that building alone. He never should have _gone off _alone. Someone should have noticed he was missing and gone after him before it had been too late. Before she'd come close to losing him.

Never should have. It didn't matter in the long run. Nothing did. What was done was done.

"So couldn't it have ricocheted-"

"Dr. Brennan, there was no exit wound." Dr. Stein had punctuated each word very clearly. "It's as though the bullet dissolved inside of him."

"But that's impossible."

"I know."

After that his doctors had left it alone. Their main concern with locating it within Booth's flesh had been to be sure the bullet hadn't gone near his spine, or anywhere else to inflict further damage. As long as the idea of paralysis was out of the picture, and Booth was healing, which he seemed to be, then his doctors were content.

Booth, however, was far from it.

Brennan leaned back against the wall. Booth had been scheduled to do physical therapy three times a week to build strength in his chest muscles. He'd been working himself vigorously. Not being able to do his daily job was driving him crazy. She knew he had been to the shooting range a few times, only to come away with disastrous results. He hadn't had the strength to hold his weapon for more than a few rounds. His aim was completely off. The frustration he felt fueled him. That was exactly why Brennan had started driving him to and picking him up from his sessions. He was so exhausted afterwards that most often times he was barely able to stay awake until she got him back to his apartment.

Currently she remained a fly on the wall. Before her she could see Booth struggling with his last few reps. His biceps trembled with effort. His trainer patted his shoulder and pointed at Brennan. Booth's eyes scanned the crowd, immediately finding her. He offered up a fatigued smile. Slowly she smiled back.

Suddenly it was as though he got a second wind. He powered his way through the remaining exercises. Once he was finished he laid against the back rest and closed his eyes. For a brief moment he remained still. Then he shakily got to his feet. He zeroed straight in on Brennan.

"Hey," he greeted her breathlessly as he drew near. "Did you see me?"

He looked so pleased with himself that Brennan hated to say anything. The truth was what she saw worried her. _He'd _been worrying her. She didn't like Booth putting so much pressire on himself. It was only bound to do more damage than good to both his body and mind in the long run. After all he'd been through she didn't want anything more to happen. She didn't want him enduring any more heart break.

If there was one thing Booth had taught her, it was that there was a time and a place for everything. Eventually she'd bring her concerns to him. But for the moment she decided to let him bask in his unfounded glory. "Yeah."

Before he could say anything more she began heading outside. "We should get going."

She missed Booth's look of disgusted confusion. He was doing wonderfully, considering only a few months ago he'd been laying in bed fighting just to breathe. She couldn't muster up more praise than that?

Booth trailed her out to the parking lot. He was walking briskily when the ground beneath him became unsteady. His vision split into two. Tightly he squeezed his eyes shut. A concrete pillar rushed up to catch him as he tipped sideways.

Brennan caught him before he could slip to the ground. Her hands gripped his arms. "Booth!"

He squinted an eye open to look at her. "I'm okay," he mumbled. Her face blurred before coming back into focus.

Brennan didn't believe him for a second. Carefully she guided him the remaining to steps to her car. By the time they reached the passenger side Booth was back to normal. He opened the door and eased himself down into the seat. "Really Bones," he insisted, bright eyed now. "I'm all right."

She got in and started her car. Without saying a word she backed out of the space and pulled out onto the busy street. He wasn't "all right." Who was he kidding? Certainly not her. "Booth, you were light headed."

"Yeah, for like a second. So what?" He shrugged his shoulders. "Bones, I'm fine. I'm just," he broke off his sentence. _Tired. _Weary. But had that really been what brought on the sudden bout of dizziness? He'd been doing everything right. Eating correctly. Working with his trainer. Sleeping the right amount of hours, even if it was with the assistance of medication. Otherwise horrible dreams kept him in and out of sleep almost all night long.

"You're just what?"

"Nothing." He looked out the window. The world was set alive with an orange glow coming from the setting sun.

"Booth, you're damaging yourself. Your body's not ready for the amount of hard work you're doing. That's why your equilibrium was thrown off."

He scoffed. "I'm already injured, Bones," he reminded her in an irritated voice. "That's the whole reason I'm doing this."

"The strenuous amount of strain you're applying to your muscles won't make you stronger. It's just going to take longer for you to heal."

Booth grit his teeth. "Don't you think my personal trainer would stop me if she thought I was hurting myself?"

Brennan thought of the blond ditz that was considered his "trainer." She pressed her lips into a thin line. For once she thought better of saying anything.

"I just want to get back to work." He slumped in his seat. "You don't know what it's like."

He was right. She didn't. If she wasn't able to do her job for months on end she was sure she too would be angry. "That doesn't mean I don't care," she objected quietly.

He looked over at her without bothering to feign surprise. Not that he didn't know she cared. But he hadn't been expecting that rebuttal.

The rest of the car ride was tensely silent. It seemed like hours before Brennan finally pulled up to the curb of Booth's apartment building. Neither one of them knew exactly what to say to one another. Booth put his hand on the door handle. "Bones, I-"

"Why'd you go in alone?" She blurted the question that had been on her mind for months. Ever since he'd told her what happened.

"What?"

"You went off alone, without a bullet proof vest." She shook her head. "Why didn't you stay with the unit?"

Booth had been asking himself that as well. The truth was, he didn't know. Thinking back to that day gave him no answers. He'd been on so many missions that though he knew the risks, it was as if he'd thought he were invincible. He hadn't thought twice about playing the lone wolf.

Brennan was waiting for an answer. Booth gave her a mere glance before twisting his body away once again. "I, I don't know." He admitted. "I just did."

"You almost died."

"I know that, Bones. I was there, remember?" His aggitation was beginning to grow. "I knew what I was doing."

"Did you?"

Booth took in a deep breath. He needed to get away from her. After a shower and a nap he'd feel better, and be able to deal properly then. "Thanks for the ride," he muttered, and exited the vehicle.

Behind him he could hear her calling him but disregarded her. Carefully he took himself upstairs to the front door of his apartment. A quick flick of the key and he was inside. His first stop was the bathroom. Just as he put his hand on the faucet he stopped himself. Stress and fatigue had made his muslces taut. A long soak in the bath tub sounded much better than a shower. He turned the tap, then added some soap and left the water running.

Booth crossed into his bedroom. He stripped down to his boxers before pulling out a new shirt and a pair of pajama pants to change back into after his soak. Leisurely he went back to check on the water. Suds were peeking up just over the rim of the tub. At once he shut the water off before it could over flow.

Before anything he needed to take the bandage off his wound. Every few days he tried to change the dressing. His doctors had advised him to check the area frequently. That advice was difficult for him to follow. It was hard for him to stare at it in the mirror for more than a few seconds. Every time he did he found himself back in that place, with his back against the floor watching helplessly as Alejandro attempted to kill him.

Unconsciously now his breathing and pulse increased at just so much as the thought. His fingers worked the tape holding the gauze square against his skin. He couldn't help but to wince slightly as it gave way. The tape tugged at the bruising that remained.

Purposefully he kept a blind eye to the mirror as he pulled out preparations from his medicine cabinet to make a new bandage.

Just as he was shutting the door something in his reflection caught his eye. He had to force himself to look at it. What he saw concerned him immensely. His skin directly where the wound was healing had turned a strange green color. Sometimes bruises turned peculiar colors, he knew. But this was nothing like he had ever seen. On anyone.

Booth decided for the moment he'd leave the area uncovered. He tried to clear it out of his mind, abandoning his items and lowering himself down into the bath water. But the relaxing bath proved to be of no comfort. Thoughts ran rampant. Should he be concerned? What did it mean? Anything?

After ten minutes he gave up. He dried off, wrapped a towel around himself, and fetched his cell phone. He tried to keep himself calm as he dialed his doctor. Most likely there wasn't anything wrong. He was just over reacting. Wasn't he?


	4. The Truth

Booth sat alone in the waiting room of his doctor's office the following morning. He had a magazine in his hands but couldn't seem to focus on it. He felt as though he were losing his mind. Upon making the phone call to his doctor, the man had wanted to see him as soon as possible. Unfortunately that meant waiting until the next morning. All night Booth had been left to wonder what was happening to him. He'd replayed the conversation over and over again in his head, searching for inclinations in his doctor's voice. The sense of urgency.

But, he reminded himself, Dr. Stein had been comfortable with him waiting. He hadn't ordered him to the emergency room. That had to mean something, right?

"Seeley Booth?" A nurse finally called.

Booth stood. He replaced the magazine back in the rack he'd gotten it from. As he began to follow the nurse the strange feeling of vertigo hit him once again. The nurse's image distorted. A pang of nausea nearly made him gag.

"Mr. Booth?"

Inhaling deeply, Booth shut his eyes. He opened them as he breathed out, finding himself back to normal. "Yes. Sorry."

The nurse frowned, but led him on. They went through the usual check up routines. A step on the scale revealed Booth had lost weight.

His nurse was unimpressed. "Physical therapy can do that after being laid up."

Next they found his blood pressure was high. Much higher than normal. The nurse didn't have an explanation for that one. "Dr. Stein will be in soon," she promised while shutting the door.

Booth hopped off of the table he'd been sitting on. Back and forth he paced across the room, building up a sweat. By the time Dr. Stein arrived Booth was so wound up he'd about broken out into a fever. For a calm man like him the behavior was extraordinarily abnormal.

"Whoa. Easy." Dr. Stein had him sit back down. "Lets see what we've got here."

Booth shrugged off his jacket and lifted his shirt from his shoulders. Dr. Stein cautiously removed the bandage away from Booth's skin. The action that had been only slightly uncomfortable the previous night now nearly brought tears to his eyes from the pain.

Dr. Stein tried to be careful of Booth's seemingly sensitive skin as he poked and prodded. Booth had his teeth locked together firmly. He breathed out unevenly. His palms were pressing down onto the table with his fingers gripping the edges so hard his knuckles were white when Dr. Stein finally finished. The relief nearly caused Booth to collapse onto the floor.

"How's your appetite been?" The doctor asked out of the blue. "I see you've lost weight."

Booth admitted, "not the greatest." But he hadn't thought much about it. He'd chalked his despondence towards food as an effect from the depression he was feeling. Otherwise, as the nurse had said, he'd been working hard towards getting back into shape.

Dr. Stein capped a ophthalmoscope. He shined the light into Booth's eyes, marking down the reaction. "Any changes in vision? Light headedness? Hearing?"

"Some," Booth said guardedly. Dr. Stein was onto something. He could feel it.

The doctor was clearly troubled. "I want you to go to the hospital immediately."

"What? Why?"

"I want blood work done."

"Why at the hospital?" Booth pushed.

"I have a bad feeling you've been poisoned, Booth."

Booth was shocked, to say the least. "But, how-"

"I'll know more when I receive your test results. As a precaution I want you hospitalized until then."

After that moment everything became surreal. Booth hurried back out into the parking lot feeling numb. Poisoned? None of it made any sense. Had someone been continuously trying to kill him? Should he be suspicious of everyone and everything around him? But what did that have to do with his wound? With the awful shade of hunter green it had turned?

What was happening to him?

During the drive over his cell phone rang. He saw it was Brennan calling. Feeling only slightly guilty, he pressed the "ignore" feature his phone offered. Between their fight and the latest developments with his health, he just didn't want to talk. To _anyone._

Dr. Stein had called ahead, and so the hospital was prepared for Booth's arrival. He was admitted straight away. The next few hours were a dizzy merry go round of new doctors, new nurses, and numerous vials filled with his blood.

It wasn't until much later that night that anyone came to speak with Booth. He'd been dozing on and off, unable to shake the wave of exhaustion that had come over him. In his doorway he heard footsteps. He cracked an eye open to see Dr. Stein walking in, a chart in hand. Tiredly Booth pushed himself up into a sitting position.

Dr. Stein sat down next to Booth's bedside. He took off his glasses, pinching the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger.

Booth's heart sped up in alarm. "It's bad, huh?"

"Booth, my suspicions were right. Your blood came back with high levels of a certain kind of poison. The same poison that's been killing the drug addicts for months."

Alejandro. Booth's blood ran cold. "But I don't do heroin. I've never-"

"Our theory now is," Dr. Stein interrupted him. "Is that Alejandro didn't use a bullet to shoot you. He shot some sort of pellet that injured you just as a bullet would. We never found any shrapnel because that pellet dissolved into your blood stream."

"And now it's killing me," Booth supplied for him. He knew the grim statistics. Hell, he knew the case inside and out from being involved. The trouble was the toxin wasn't one that was easily recognizable. Whatever made up the fatal concoction took months to kill its victims. Alejandro had gone to great lengths to cover his tracks.

"It appears so," Dr. Stein agreed softly. "But we're not letting this go without a fight. We'll keep you here, treat the symptoms. You have an advantage of being young and fit. We can use that to help us help you."

Booth nodded, because he knew that's what was expected of him. But he was no longer listening. He was angry. Actually, he was _raging. _Alejandro had already taken months away from him. Now he was expecting to get away with taking his life, as well?

"I'll give you some time," Dr. Stein stood. "Get some rest. We'll start fresh attacking this tomorrow."

Booth barely gave an acknowledgement. He rested his back down against his pillows. The burning inferno inside him was dying down into a spark. _Poison. The son of a bitch is still trying to kill me. _Only this time, he was turning his body against himself. A long, drawn out fight was ahead of him. Victory seemed unlikely. What was he to tell people?

How was he going to tell Brennan?

A surge of determination pushed him up from his mattress. He wouldn't. No, he wouldn't tell anyone. This was his burden to bear. It was up to him to take care of it. There was nothing doctors could do for him. They hadn't been able to assist any of the helpless addicts who had died at the hands of Alejandro. Why would he be any different?

Booth pulled his clothes out from the bag they'd been put into when he'd been admitted. His plan was to check out against medical advice. Then he was going to find Alejandro himself. The two had plenty to talk about.


	5. Tracking Down A Dealer

First thing was first, Booth needed to work his way up the food chain of drug dealers until he reached Alejandro. The man had most obviously gone into hiding after the raid. As an agent on the street for years Booth knew his fair share of both dealers and addicts. He also knew none of his contacts would be willing to talk to him without some leverage. Normally his strength was one of his biggest assets. But with the poison weakening him bit by bit hourly he had no idea if he'd still be able to throw his weight around. He was going to have to find another way.

He purposefully dressed down in a lot of black. Down over his hair he pulled on a baseball cap. He may have been a federal agent but he didn't want to attract any additional attention to himself. Not in the sort of neighborhoods he was planning on going into. He armed himself with two guns, his usual holstered one at his hip and another tucked away in a holster around his ankle. Any and all precautions he planned on taking. This was one of the few times in his life in which he was unsure of himself; of what he was capable of.

Before leaving he pocketed his cell phone and badge. Just as he opened the door Brennan was getting ready to knock. Her fist was raised in the air. Seeing him, she took a step back. "Hi."

"Hi, Bones," he said. His tone lacked its usual enthusiasm for her.

They stood face to face eyeing one another awkwardly. Brennan cleared her throat. "I haven't heard from you." She said in a carefully measured voice. "I went to physical therapy and they told me you weren't there today."

"No," he agreed.

Brennan didn't seem to know how to proceed. The tension was thick between them. Their last argument was still fresh in both their minds. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine. I'm just late." He stepped out into the hallway. Behind him he closed the door.

"Late?" She trailed him downstairs into the parking lot. "Booth, it's the middle of the night. Where are you going?"

He grit his teeth. Later on he knew he was going to regret what he was about to do. "Don't worry about it."

Brennan still didn't get the hint. "But-"

"I don't want to talk to you," he snapped. In front of his car he had no choice but to turn around and face her. The heart broken expression she wore nearly broke him.

"Is this… because of the other day?"

"I have to go." He left her standing alone. Inside his car he started it, then took off without looking back. On his drive towards the seedy areas of the city he mentally criticized himself. He hated hurting her, and it wasn't his intentions to do so. But what he was doing was very dangerous. It was something he needed to keep her out of. And, he tried to reason, it'd be easier on her when he died if she was mad at him. She was excellent at compartmentalizing.

The thought stole Booth's breath away. He hadn't truly realized until that moment that he'd given up on himself. And why not? Not a single addict who had been poisoned had survived. Why would he be any different?

He turned off the highway and parked his car on a side street where he frequented whenever he needed information from drug dealers. Down the street he walked with his hands jammed inside his pockets. He did his best to blend in with the few late night stragglers out roaming the sidewalks.

Along Booth walked until he discovered two men hiding in the shadows in the back of an alley. Cautiously he approached, trying to get a feel for the situation before getting involved. The two men eyed him. One of them spoke, being too stupid to realize he was blowing his entire deal. "Hey, Agent Booth!"

"Agent?" The other man took off running the opposite way.

Booth moved in stealthily. As he got closer he recognized the man as Maury. Maury always had heroin on him, and information. "Maury, Maury," he grinned. "That wasn't too smart, now was it?"

"I figured you'd give chase to him. Cut me a break, you know?"

"Sorry." In one move he whirled Maury around against the wall. He searched his pockets and pulled out a bag of white powder. "Whatcha got for me?"

"Eh, it's nothing. Baby powder."

Booth laughed genuinely. "Maury, I've caught you with heroin every time we've had a run in. You're seriously going to try and give me that story?"

"Well, uh,"

Booth turned him back around so they were face to face. "I need to know where you got this."

"Hell, no. I don't give my sources away."

Smiling, Booth nodded. Then he pressed his body against Maury's, trapping him in place while pushing his fore arm against the man's throat. "Not going to do it this time. Tell me what you know."

"Booth, Booth," he croaked. "Can't we reason?"

Booth applied more pressure. He'd never kill Maury. But the young man wasn't bright enough to realize that.

"Okay!" He cried. "I get my shit from Nicky. He distributes."

Booth backed off. "And he gets it from Alejandro?"

"I don't know, man."

Once again Booth raised his arm.

"I seriously don't know! Nicky will know more about that then me!" Maury was desperate.

Booth decided to believe him. "Where do I find Nicky? What's his last name?"

"He lives in those apartment buildings on Fuller. He's Nick Kingsley."

Having what he wanted, Booth released the man. In his hand he still had the plastic bag full of heroin. Opening it, he dumped it upside down. The powder vanished into the wind.

"Ah, man," Maury sighed disgustedly.

"Thanks." Booth began walking back the way he'd come. For tonight he'd go back to his place and rest. This short outing had taken a lot out of him. Tomorrow he'd head into work and search the crime database for additional information on Nicky.

"Hey!" Maury called after him. "You taking on the whole drug cartel or something?"

"Something like that."

"You'll never win!"

Booth shook his head. "I got nothing to lose."


	6. The Truth: Part Two

Author's Note: I apologize this is taking me so long to get this written. The truth is, I'm stuck, and I'm trying really hard not to give up on this story. So although I'm not happy with it, here's the next chapter.

* * *

First thing the following morning Booth was swiping his clearance card to let himself into the bureau. It was early enough yet that he didn't run the risk of seeing too many people he knew. It was just the way he wanted it. He planned on getting in and out as fast as he could. Time was of the essence now. He'd barely been able to force himself to sleep overnight for fear of losing that sweet time. At last he'd convinced himself that he'd get nothing done if he was dead on his feet. For a few hours he'd been able to doze off.

He wound through the familiar halls until he reached his office. Inside he flipped on the overhead lights. Everything was just as how he'd left it since he'd been gone. Right away he got down to business. He went straight to his desk and booted up his computer.

Within fifteen minutes Booth had extracted more than enough information on Nicky from the database. He printed out the pages, standing and gathering his things while they came off the printer one by one. Because he was so absorbed in his own trauma he never heard footsteps enter his office.

"Agent Booth?"

Booth froze. Slowly he turned around. A.D. Hacker, his boss, was standing in front of his desk. The man appeared to be cross. His arms were folded across his chest.

Busted. Booth forced a smile. "Yes, sir?"

"What are you doing here?"

"You're upset?"

Hacker broke out into a smile. "Only that no one told me you were back!" He shook Booth's hand. "I never received any letters from your doctors."

Booth contemplated carefully before he spoke. If he went along with the charade, then he could easily get clearance into areas of information that he wouldn't be able to if he was still seen as nothing more than a disabled civilian. However, he didn't know if he had the strength to keep up with the grueling physical demand cases often required. His desire to bring Alejandro to justice won the internal debate in the end. If he was dying, then he might as well go out doing what he loved. "Really? I'll contact them and have them refax over anything you need." It was a bluff. And any other agent most likely would not have been able to get away with it.

"Great! I have such a back up of cases, I was getting ready to investigate some myself."

Booth raised an eyebrow. "Really?"

"No." Hacker scoffed. "There's a reason why you're the agent and I'm the boss."

New case in hand and the information on Nicky hidden away, Booth took himself over to the Jeffersonian. The walk just from the parking garage to the building left him completely winded. Before going in to see Brennan he had to take a breather. The low grade pain he had been experiencing had kicked itself up a notch. Unconsciously he ran a hand over his chest, as though that would ease the symptoms. When he finally felt he'd been able to pull himself back together he headed inside to the lab.

Brennan was in her office. She was surprised to see Booth shuffle in. For a moment she just looked at him before speaking. "What are you doing here?"

"We have a case." His voice was bland.

"You're working?"

"Yeah."

"Booth, how can you-"

"Do you want to work with me or not?" He asked testily.

She pressed her lips together in a frown. Reluctantly she withdrew from her desk. If anyone else acted that way with her she would have put them in their place. Turned them down flat. But Booth was different. The sudden shift in his over all demeanor was a concern to her. Something was going on, whether he realized it or not.

The signs were more evident as time wore on. The two worked at a feverish pace to try and solve the case they'd been assigned. Booth was running himself ragged. After working all day he spent all night hunting down everyone involved in Alejandro's drug ring. Unfortunately he'd hit a brick wall. But that didn't stop him from trying. He'd hunt down Alejandro, even if he passed away in the process.

Which was seeming more and more likely. Because of how hard he was pushing himself Booth was hardly sleeping. Every day he grew sicker and sicker. If Brennan noticed anything, she didn't demand any answers for it. Then again, most of everyone in the lab was avoiding him like a plague. Booth's behavior was simply unpredictable. While he was almost always sullen, he seemed to become infuriated at the drop of a hat. There was no rhyme or reason to any of it.

At last Brennan had had enough. After Booth left the lab one night she discreetly trailed him home. Up to the curb she parked and slid down low behind the steering wheel. She'd been on enough stake outs with him that she knew what to do. Curiously she watched him leave his car and limp his way into his apartment building.

For a while she was able to sit until she got bored. What was she doing? There was no saying Booth was going to leave his apartment again. And if he did, what was she going to do? Trail him everywhere he went? It was stupid, she decided, sitting up. If she wanted to know what he was up to then she needed to just ask him herself.

She left her car. Across the street she jogged up to the front door of the complex. Just as she was about to buzz for access to the building, he came bustling out, nearly colliding with her. Once he recovered he took a few steps back apprehensively. "Bones."

Booth was wearing almost nothing but black. This didn't go unnoticed by her. "What are you doing?"

The pain in his body was increasing with his pulse. "I'm going out."

"Booth, I know something's wrong."

The rest of her talking faded away into the background. Another spell of vertigo seized his being. Her voice grew far away. His vision blurred and distorted. To his right side his body tilted, his hand struggling to brace himself against the brick wall of the terrace.

The episode took a new turn as he slid down completely to the ground. He fell flat out. Within seconds he'd stopped breathing.

Brennan was down on top of him almost instantly. "Booth?" She rolled him over onto his back. A few seconds passed by before it occurred to her that her partner was in serious distress. First she noticed his lack of breath. Next she felt for his pulse. It was growing wan.

Automatically she went into the motions of CPR. It didn't take too much to get him breathing again. However, she'd launched into one more chest pump before she realized it. His cry of pain made her back off immediately. "Booth?"

He was back, but too dazed to answer her. Brennan roughly yanked his shirt up over his chest so she could see for herself what had caused the yell. The green pellet wound loomed back at her. She felt her own breath get stolen away.

Brennan started to dial for paramedics when Booth stopped her. He weakly put his hand over the phone's display. She looked past her phone to see him shaking his head. So he didn't want an ambulance. Fine. Then she had to get him back to his apartment.

Together they managed to get back inside. Booth's legs were nearly useless. He had to lean heavily against her just to walk. Both of them were exhausted by the time they were back in. Booth collapsed straight down onto his couch. He was asleep before his head hit the pillow.

Brennan stayed with him, sitting on the floor besides him while he slept. The full realization of what happened took its toll on her. Now she was too scared to leave him alone. What if he stopped breathing once again? Why had he stopped in the first place? And what had happened to his chest?

It was a few hours before he woke. His eyes half opened. A moment passed before he remembered where he was. Before the events leading up to that moment came back to him. Closing his eyes again, he blindly reached out to his coffee table to grab the bottle of pain killers he had on hand. The pain was roaring.

His hand swiped at dead air. Again he squeezed an eye open. The pills were gone. Oh no. Where had they gone? Feebly he pushed himself up on dead muscles. It was no use. He fell back down onto the soft cushions.

"Are you looking for these?"

Booth turned his head enough to see Brennan holding a prescription bottle. The anger eased in her eyes when she saw how awful he appeared. Silently she tapped out two pills. Then she gave them to him with a glass of water.

Booth dozed off for another hour until the pills took their effect. When he woke the second time he found Brennan had never moved from his side. She was watching him, waiting expectantly.

"I'm sure you have questions," he began in a roughened voice.

She just nodded.

While she listened he poured over the entire story with her. He recounted parts she already knew. But he found when it came time to tell her about the poison killing him, he had difficultly. By the time he finished her eyes were near flushed with tears waiting to break the dam.

"Booth," she whispered, sniffing and shaking her head.

"I have to find Alejandro."

"You're too sick. You shouldn't even be working."

Booth didn't really even have the strength to argue with her. He exhaled deeply, allowing his eyes to once again close.

Brennan's next words were so quiet Booth almost missed hearing them. "I can save you."

"Hmm?"

"I can take a sample of your blood." As ideas formed she spoke faster. "If I can identify what poisons are in your system we can find a cure."

"Bones, you're brilliant. You are. But you can't help me." Once again he began drifting off on a wave of exhaustion.

"I have to try." Speaking was useless. Booth wasn't hearing her. But it stop her from adding, "don't give up on me."


	7. Brennan Intervenes

"Okay, Mr. Booth, just a slight pinch and then we're done."

Booth winced and turned his head away as a nurse pierced the vein in his arm with a needle. Red blood began pooling from his arm through a tube into a vial. Despite the seriousness of the situation Brennan couldn't help but to smirk at his reaction. "You're a sniper trained FBI agent and you're afraid of needles?"

He scowled back at her.

The nurse finished filling the vial. She loosened the rubber tie on his arm and placed a gauze square over the wound. "I've have this expedited to the lab at the Jeffersonian right away." She promised them.

Brennan thanked her. As the woman left the room Booth reached for the shirt he was wearing to pull back over his body. While he was doing so Brennan's eyes were once again drawn to the pellet wound. She could swear as his condition worsened the green turned deeper in color.

"What?" He asked. He slid off the exam table and pulled his coat on.

"Nothing."

Together they left the clinic. Brennan stayed protectively close to Booth at all times. After the spell he'd had last night she was too fearful not to be around him.

That morning he'd barely woken from his fitful sleep before she'd dragged him straight to his doctor's to get a blood sample taken. This of course was done after Booth received a stern reprimand from his doctor over his preference to do nothing about his condition. Brennan had noticed Booth's face darken before he averted his eyes elsewhere. She'd wondered what he'd been thinking. And why he wasn't attempting to save himself.

They both got into her car. She pulled out of the space and began driving.

"Where are we going?" He sat up straighter in his seat.

"Back to your apartment."

"I want to go to work," he persisted. "Take me over to the bureau."

"No."

"Why not? I'm close to tracking down Alejandro."

"Booth, you stopped breathing last night. What would have happened if I hadn't of been there?"

Quick he was to snap back, "if you hadn't of been there it wouldn't have happened in the first place."

Brennan said nothing. Her expression changed into sadness. Booth instantly regretted his words. "Bones, I'm sorry. I didn't mean that." His irritation wasn't her fault. He wasn't being fair. But he also knew getting worked up over Brennan's sudden arrival had been what nearly stopped his heart. As the poison continued taking its hold his system was becoming weaker.

Against her wishes she drove him straight to the bureau. Booth had his own demons to fight. Ones she didn't understand. But if finding Alejandro meant so much to him then she decided she'd back off. The likeness of him catching up with the man was slim anyways. Weren't drug lords always on the move?

Brennan pulled off to the side of the road. Booth turned to her as he opened his car door. "I'll be okay, Bones."

"Not if you keep insisting on doing nothing to help yourself."

He frowned. Dully he got out. Inside the building he let himself, thinking as he made his way to his office. Nobody understood. Not that that wasn't expected. Brennan didn't understand that he chose to do nothing because there was nothing to do. Yes, his doctor could treat his symptoms. But for what? To prolong the inevitable? Or worse, do experimental treatments that could shorten his already fading life? As far as he was concerned being passive was being safe.

In the warmth of his office he locked himself. Afternoon turned into night as he mentally ran through the facts of Alejandro's case over and over again. From his desk drawer he withdrew a map. On a hunch he pinned it against his wall and began tracking all the known places of where Alejandro had been with thumb tacks. He took into account all the areas in which the most drug addicts had died. Having all the information spread out before him he began to see a pattern in the man's frequent spots. The more he played it out the more he was sure he knew where the man was set to strike next.

Suddenly there was a knock on his door. He turned to find a fellow agent waving his hand, motioning him urgently. Annoyed, Booth stalked across the room and opened it. "What is it, Charlie?"

"The police just called us. Your partner's car has been found abandoned on a road next to a forest preserve. They believe she was driven off the road."

Booth could hardly breathe. "Where?"

Charlie had barely given him the directions before Booth was pushing him aside. He near ran to the parking garage to his own vehicle. His siren screamed into the night as he drove at a break neck speed to the scene.

Police were still there when he pulled up. Brennan's car was down in a ditch. It had flipped over onto its roof. Booth jumped out. He ran down to her car and dropped down to his knees to look inside. The driver's side window had been smashed. There were traces of blood on the steering wheel and door. Brennan had been hurt.

"Motorist called it in. He was driving by when he saw the abduction." A police officer came up next to him.

"Did they give a description?"

The officer went on to describe Alejandro to a tee. The man knew Booth was still alive. And now he was dangling Brennan in front of him in a game of cat and mouse in order to finish what he'd started.

Booth's gut strongly told him that his earlier suspicions on Alejandro's whereabouts were dead on. Time was wasting away. He had to take the chance and save his partner.

If Alejandro wanted Booth, then he was going to get him.


	8. Showdown

Brennan woke bathed in a pale white light. She was slumped up against an office chair she'd been restrained to. Her head ached with ferocity. Where was she? What had happened to her? How had it happened?

Off in another room she could hear noises. Strange noises that were unrecognizable to her conscious mind. While listening everything began to come back to her. She'd been driving back to the Jeffersonian when she'd been rammed off the road by a pick up truck. Hers had tumbled over again and again down an incline until she'd hit her head and blacked out.

Since then she'd woken up once. Her captor had been sinisterly torturing her. She could feel cuts and bruises suffered from his abuse. Her body shivered as she remembered he'd threatened to kill her before striking her in the head once again with a butt of a gun. Out cold she'd been knocked.

The noises grew closer. Brennan shut her eyes and turned her head away. She wasn't ready for the second round. Tightly she tensed, bracing herself.

"Bones?"

She opened her eyes to see Booth standing before her. His expression changed from anger to sorrow as he noticed her various injuries. Then the frightening expression of pure rage took him over. Down he kneeled in front of her. Tenderly he undid the rope binding her wrists together. "Hold on, Bones."

"Booth, you shouldn't be here," she whispered in a scratchy voice.

He disregarded her. He focused on freeing her instead. There was no way he was leaving her now.

Neither of them noticed approaching footsteps. They weren't aware of anything but one another until it was too late. There was the unmistakable "popping" sound. Booth winced dramatically as he gasped and rose half way up from his knelt position all within seconds.

"Booth?"

He was frozen. And she could see the pain building in his eyes. "What-" She looked beyond him to see Alejandro smirking, the gun he'd just fired still aimed at Booth's back.

The man stalked forward. He grabbed Booth by the shoulders and slammed him down onto his back. Booth struck the back of his head, near paralyzing him with both of the shocks of pain. Alejandro was on him instantly. With a surprising amount of strength he kept Booth pushed down against the floor. "I really wanted a slow, agonizing death for you." He clucked his tongue shamefully. "I could just let you die with that bullet in your back. It'd be symbolic. But," Just as before he pressed the barrel of the gun down hard against Booth's chest. The barrel pointed straight at his heart. "I won't miss this time," he hissed.

Booth let out a horrible yell as the gun went off. He grimaced, his back arching off the floor before ultimately he became limp. His eyes drifted shut.

Brennan screamed out his name. Her body shook with deep, gut wrenching sobs almost immediately. Helplessly she could only watch as he died instantly right in front of her.

Alejandro kept his knee pressed down on Booth's stomach. He waited, making sure the man was dead. Then he stood, taking himself back over to Brennan. "That was almost too easy." Down in front of her he knelt. "I had wanted him alive to see this. I won't have an audience while I torture you now." He pulled an electrical extension cord out from his back pocket. "Que sera."

Brennan wasn't going out without a fight. Before Booth had been killed he'd loosened up enough of the rope on her wrists. She'd managed to get her hands free. She switched her gaze from Alejandro back to Booth. He laid completely still. Flaccid. There was no movement in his chest as an indication of breathing. And yet she couldn't make herself believe he was dead. Ration and logic were forgotten. If she could just get to him she was sure she could do something for him.

Alejandro plugged the electrical cord into the wall. He came back at Brennan with a wild look in his eyes. Brennan prepared herself for a fight. There was no way she was letting him get anywhere close enough to shock her. He'd already done enough.

She needn't have worried. The sound of a gun shot going off echoed off the walls. Alejandro stopped abruptly. His eyes widened. Within seconds he was down on the ground. Blood leaked from a wound in the side of his head. He was dead.

Brennan looked to find where the shot had come from. To her amazement she found Booth, eyes open and gun still in hand. He was still on his back on the floor. Rapidly his chest rose and fell with deep breaths.

She untied her feet and rushed to him. As she did his hand fell. The gun clattered from his grip. His eyes closed. From deep in his throat he made choking sounds.

"Booth!" She cried. Next to him she collapsed down onto her knees. "Booth, no." Sniffing, she touched his chest hurriedly to find the wound. To her surprise she felt nothing. But there was something bulky underneath his shirt and jacket.

She near ripped his shirt off of him as she pushed it up, exposing his stomach and chest. There across him was a thick, black bullet proof vest. The bullet meant to take his life was lodged in the material. It hadn't gone through.

But it had been enough to trigger another episode. The choking sounds stopped. Booth's face remained in a grimace, though he didn't breathe. Brennan threw everything in her into performing CPR on him. This time he wasn't as easy to pull back. A tense minute went by. At last while she had her mouth pressed against his did she feel a faint breath from him. "Booth?" She whispered, touching his cheek.

He blinked his eyes open.

Just then more than a dozen agents ascended on the building. Brennan fell from her knelt position down on the ground next to Booth. "You're a little late," she told them.


	9. The End

Author's Note: Thank you to everyone who stuck around for this story! Sorry it's taken so long to get out! This is the end, and although I'm not happy with it I'm tired of leaving this undone. It is what it is. I hope you all enjoyed it!

* * *

**A week later**

Brennan ran up the steps that led inside to Booth's apartment building. She took herself through the path she knew so well until she reached his front door. Excitedly she smacked her fist against the door as hard as she could. They had it. She and Hodgins had done it.

Paramedics had taken them from Alejandro's compound straight to the hospital. Brennan had been kept over night before being released. From there she'd gone straight to work in the lab with Hodgins. Having nearly lost Booth twice right before her very eyes had stroked the fire within her. And sure enough, the two had found a cure. Or so they hoped.

Booth had been kept longer in the hospital because of all of his complications due to the poison. He'd only tolerated the treatment for so long. One afternoon Brennan went to visit him only to discover he'd checked himself out against medical advice.

She'd not bothered him. One because she'd been working straight around the clock. For another to wanted to give him some space. Booth was handling the situation in a manner she didn't understand. But now that she realized it'd been a week since she'd heard from him, she was troubled.

The pounding on his door caused Booth to wince. The sound of it bounced around inside his brain, already weakened from a horrible migraine. He breathed in and out unevenly. Uncontrollably his muscles would spasm at times. Sweat soaked his hair and clothes. He knew exactly what was happening to him. This was it. The end. If he had thought it would do any good he would have phoned for an ambulance. But it was just as he'd known all along. There was nothing anyone could do for him.

The banging grew to be intense. "Booth!" Brennan hollered through the wood. "It's me!"

Booth exhaled. He stammered to his feet. The floor was like a tilt-a-whirl as he staggered back and forth to the door. He firmly grabbed onto the door jamb before opening.

Brennan inhaled in shock as soon as she saw him. Was this why she hadn't heard from him? He hadn't looked nearly so terrible the last time she'd seen him. She hadn't expected the symptoms to hit him so hard, so suddenly. "Booth, I think I got it. Hodgins and I worked out the formula and I believe we have an antidote."

He nodded, only half comprehending her. "Good job, Bones." His eyes closed.

"Booth…?" She came into his personal space.

He moved to let her inside. As he was doing so his legs gave out. Down to the floor he crashed. Weakly he tried to push himself back up.

"Booth!" Brennan slammed the door shut. She knelt next to him, helping him onto his back and resting him against the wall in a sitting up position. From her purse she produced the vial with the life saving liquid inside. Originally the plan she had was to take him to the hospital. There they would inject the antidote straight into his blood. But she could see now there was no time for that. Carefully so as not to spill a drop she took the top off. "You have to drink this," she told him urgently.

He looked back at her through glassy eyes. She could see they didn't have long. She raised the vial to his lips, tilting the liquid into his mouth. Lovingly she put a hand on his cheek to steady him. The warmth of his skin was a shock to her.

Booth downed every last drop. He tilted sideways. Abruptly his body jerked as another spasm took hold. Brennan braced him. She held him securely in her arms as he continued to involuntarily wiggle. His wreathing frightened her.

If Brennan thought that was the worst, she was mistaken. The real terror came when he stopped moving. When his body was no longer rigid. When his breaths were slow and labored. And when he no longer responded to her touch. Her voice.

She began to cry, refusing to let go. She was too late. Booth had been right all along. He'd been able to save her but she'd been useless to him. What did she do now? Did she take him to the hospital? Booth had deemed that a waste of time straight from the beginning.

For hours she held him as he continued to slip into an unknown place. Every few minutes she pressed her fingers against his neck to check his pulse. So far it hadn't changed. If he was getting weaker, then he was still holding on.

As the night wore on and peace set in around them Brennan had to fight to stay awake. She feared if she drifted off she'd lose him. Deliriously she sporadically spoke to him in an attempt to stay awake. Once again she pressed her fingers against his neck. "No change," she murmured. "Just keep holding on, Booth."

Finally, she couldn't fight it anymore. Still gripping him tightly, she fell into a fitful sleep. When she awoke once again she found she was no longer on the floor. She'd been placed on top of Booth's couch. A scratchy gray woolen blanket had been thrown over her. Brennan laid still, blinking and struggling to remember how she had gotten there.

No, she knew for sure she'd fallen asleep cradling Booth on the floor. Someone had moved her. She sat up and looked around frantically. Booth was gone. In a panic she flung the blanket off of her. What had she slept through?

Booth was sitting at his small table in the kitchen when she found him. He was expressionless. His eyes were weary. "Booth?" She fretted.

The morning sun shined in on his face. Slowly, he smiled. "Yeah, Bones?"

Gasping, she pulled him tightly into her arms.

The end


End file.
